


Taken Root

by Kamu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emetophobia, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7427233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamu/pseuds/Kamu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kind-of beginning to a modern fairy-tale story Matsukawa likes to call "Torture & Good Stuff" (when asked while surrounded by flowers and Spring and Hanamaki Takahiro).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken Root

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MamaSuga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaSuga/gifts).



> This one-shot gift is for you, MamaSuga!! Thank you for being so kind and generous with your prompts

He’s sitting at a table during his lunch break, his best friends’ chatter going in one ear and out the other as he lazily watches the view from the café window. It’s the season where it’s normal for white fluff and butterflies to flutter past. The street the café sits on has two cherry blossom trees at its front. The wind frequently picks up the fallen petals. Currently, his view fills with points of pink.

“Iiii-seiii.”

Shoulders knock with his, shoving him partly out of his seat. “What, Takahiro?” He turns to his best friend.

Hanamaki slinks an arm around his shoulders. “Oikawa sneezed on me, and I need to spread the disease he’s given me,” he explains. He gestures across the table where Oikawa is seen wiping his nose with an alien-green embroidered handkerchief. Typical Oikawa to have a hanky on hand in modern day times.

“I’m not contagious!” Oikawa exclaims, indignant as he stuffs his snotty hanky away in his bag.

“Yeah, he’s a virgin through and through,” Iwaizumi defends next to him, oblivious to how he bluntly outed Oikawa in public about the misunderstood and apparent lack of infectious diseases he obviously does not have. It’s the joy of having a friend like him that makes him fun to be around.

Matsukawa’s ears perk at the opportunity for a jolly jeer. “How do you know of his pure virginal status, Iwaizumi?” he asks, expression carefully blank as he leans in Iwaizumi’s space.

Hanamaki, who keeps his arms around Matsukawa’s shoulder, leans with him. “Yes, Iwaizumi, care to elaborate?” he adds in, always one to double team when the chance to rile the childhood friends comes up.

Iwaizumi doesn’t rise to the bait. “Because I’m a good friend and I would receive a note from his mother about any health concerns when handling her son,” he says patiently.

He and Hanamaki turn to each other, whispering loudly for the two across from them to hear. “They’re already at fiancé status. The mother-in-law has given her future son tips!” Hanamaki cries.

Matsukawa shakes his head. “Isn’t this like a former owner giving instructions about their sickly pet to the next owner?” he reasons.

“Is it not the same thing?” Hanamaki taps his chin and pretends to think hard.

“Guys, stop,” Iwaizumi says, gesturing to where Oikawa sits shaking in his chair.

Matsukawa squints at Oikawa. “He resembles one of those small dogs,” he observes. He glances at Hanamaki. “Was it a chinchilla?”

“Chihuahua,” Hanamaki corrects.

“Chihuahua,” Matsukawa tells Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi nods slowly. “I can see it,” he says, reluctant to admit it.

“You all are terrible,” Oikawa bemoans.

“You started it,” Hanamaki shakes his fist at Oikawa, “Who was the one who sneezed in my—?” Matsukawa feels Hanamaki seize up next to him.

“What’s wrong, Takahi—”

When he turns, it’s to receive a close-up and personal mouse-like sneeze to the face.

There’s tense silence as the people at the table absorb what just happened.

Oikawa breaks it first.

“Retribution!” he cheers, pumping his fist in victory.

Iwaizumi makes a face as he delicately scoots away from them. “That’s unsanitary,” he says.

“Oh,” Hanamaki says with a blink. He brings up his arm and rubs at Matsukawa’s face in apology.

After a minute of that, Matsukawa remarks, “I think some of it went into my mouth.” He licks across his teeth and smacks his lips a few times. Hanamaki sits back and eyes him. He knows this is all for show.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi make retching noises. “I didn’t need to know that!” Oikawa scrunches his nose. “How are you not bothered by this?”

“I don’t mind if we swap spit,” Matsukawa replies. “We shared a toothbrush the one time at training camp in high school.”

“I forgot mine, teehee,” Hanamaki says dopily. He knocks his head and sticks his tongue out with one eye closed. The expression is different on him when he puts no emotion behind it.

The effect remains the same. “What other dirty things did you guys do when no one was looking?” Iwaizumi asks, fascinated despite his temporary disgust.

“I love your word choice,” Matsukawa says. “How bad do you want to be tortured? I’ll give you five seconds.”

“What,” Iwaizumi says, frowning. The poor, naïve soul doesn’t know what’s coming.

Matsukawa addresses Hanamaki as he crosses his arms, “What _have_ we done that is considered ‘dirty’ by Iwaizumi’s standards?” He glances at him out of the corner of his eye, hinting through minute eye movements his intent.

Hanamaki, ever the reader of his heart, mirrors his pose, except he closes his eyes and taps his fingers against his chin. “Many, many things,” he admits sagely.

“Let us elaborate on those things. We have time,” Matsukawa urges. He smirks when Oikawa and Iwaizumi wear matching stupefied expressions. They’re so freaking cute when they do that.

“Ah, yes.” Hanamaki nods, his forced cheerful grin holding back a tide of giggles. “You gave me flowers.”

“You’ve witnessed me puke,” Matsukawa chimes in. Unlike Hanamaki, he does not giggle. He deep throats his chuckles. He has to bury them under the weight of his spectacular acting to keep his cool, nonchalant façade up for their performance.

“I’ve walked in on you puking out those same flowers.” Hanamaki shrugs. “It’s all the same to me.”

“You what!” their two-person audience yells.

“You blushed,” Matsukawa points out. He ignores the stares boring into the side of his face as he lifts a hand and caresses Hanamaki’s cheek. “I could tell you swooned.”

“Darling, not in front of the children,” Hanamaki says in falsetto, fluttering his eyelashes in mock embarrassment.

“It was the best and most terrible point in my life.” Matsukawa voices this with a ring of truth. He would never go back to that time when he felt like dying with what was supposed to be a one-sided crush on his best friend.

Years later, he’s made amends with what he had done wrong and what should have been said sooner. He was stupid and lacking in common sense. He could admit back then that puking out flowers based on unrequited feelings went against logic and reason. However, he had learned what was most important in the end.

Matsukawa lets his hands fall as he grips Hanamaki’s hands in his. He looks up from their shared tangle of palm and fingers, rubbing his thumb over Hanamaki’s knuckles.

He smiles at Hanamaki.

Hanamaki returns his warmth with his own smile, bringing their hands up to kiss them chastely.

Matsukawa turns to the two quiet ones.

Oikawa has his bag in his lap, a gloved hand resting on it in case he needs to bring out the hanky again.

Iwaizumi sits back in his chair, elbows on the table. He wears a neutral expression as he waves his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture.

Matsukawa knows telling them the truth to the fairy tale-like incident that brought him and Hanamaki together would be a good idea.

“This is a story about a boy and a disease not quite named after his best friend.”


End file.
